


The Time War (The New Millenium Adventures)

by Inmate487



Series: The New Millenium Adventures [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Remake, Time War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:59:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inmate487/pseuds/Inmate487
Summary: A rewrite of NuWho.The Daleks and The Time Lords have begun a war that will threaten reality itself. A few snapshots of the War, and it’s horrible conclusion.





	The Time War (The New Millenium Adventures)

GALLIFREY, YEAR 2/(1'|] OF RASSILON'S TIME

On top of the glorious Citadel of the Time Lords was a garden, growing on a circular cap emblazoned with the Omniscate, the seal of the Great and Kind Rassilon. Though the symbol was obscured by the flowers that grew thickly. Glowing purple roses spoke of the past. The scent of the orange grass reminded you of the future. Wild bushes with iridescent green veins whispered softly, barely audible, the voices of the future and the past, soft prayers and kind conversations of a universe that had so much potential for peace. 

Far below the Garden, chaos was overtaking the structures of the Citadel; a coup was being attempted, and its organizer was long gone, his name erased from the hearts and minds of all Gallifreyans, only remembered as a vague shadow, the unknown third of the Founding Triumvirate. He realized the coup was doomed to fail, so he ran- or to be more accurate, he unmade himself, wishing for more bravery, a stronger pair of hearts.

Of course, the box floated above the Garden, where it had followed that shadowy figure. A stellar manipulator that had gained sentience, attaining an incredible power over reality that would curse it to a life of imprisonment. Its lid had sealed shut after the man had done his work, and within its odd version of consciousness, the machine supposed it felt a bit of guilt for its part in what was to come. It did not expect something to connect to it- the word living beings used for this was telepathically connected, but the machine's conception of language was rudimentary at best, and it could not speak itself. The connection gave the machine a new sense however, something it had never experienced before; time. Yes, the telepathic connection had came to it from either far in the past or far in the future.

Whatever was on the other end of the connection assured the stellar manipulator that it would be okay; and the manipulator received a signal, three short, high pitched notes, a signal that forever altered its conception of reality and its own purpose. The frequency was the imprint of a hundred souls, souls that had went through pain and terrible suffering in its overextended lifetime, but also incredible happiness and the purest bliss, that kind of bliss that comes to you when you make a difference and touch billions upon billions of lives, lives that sing your name for millennia, lives that never forget your faces- though the stellar manipulator did not understand all of this, it understood that the frequency could be condensed into a word, and it realized that maybe the shadowy man wouldn't be forgotten, not entirely.

Alixion.

*****

"Doctor. You are required. The treaty has failed. The Daleks are preparing an assault. Please return to Gallifrey."

The message, staticky and short, was being played directly from the speakers of the TARDIS console. A short, slightly portly man walked his way about the console, fiddling with the ship controls and muttering to himself.

"Want me to fight for them? Fight the war they got themselves into? Absolutely not!" He exclaimed, switching up a lever; the central pillar of the console lit up brightly and began moving up and down, the familiar wheezing of the ship echoing through the massive console room. The room was bright, the floors a shiny black and the walls a grayish white, with massive roundels of light going all around. In the center of the room, the floor dipped down, and on a platform high above the dip stood the TARDIS console. 

The man in question, the owner of the TARDIS, was named the Doctor. He puttered about, continuously speaking to himself. The wheezing noise stopped as the ship shook slightly. The Doctor retrieved an umbrella with a question mark handle from its place hanging on the railing surrounding the platform, and he walked the ramp that brought him to the front doors. He took a deep breath, and opened the doors.

He squinted as the bright golden light of Gallifrey hit his eyes; his TARDIS had parked on the edge of a massive hole in the ground. From the edges of the hole stretched several massive ramps; they connected to a massive metal and glass dome. Within the dome, buildings could be seen, tall skyscraper-like structures. 

This was the Citadel of the Time Lords.

The Doctor scowled, and walked forward on one of the massive rampways. Scattered along it were several Time Lord officials and guards, dressed in oranges and reds and golds; they all shot glances at the Doctor, and he could feel the shift as they began speaking of his arrival. After the rather long walk, he arrived to a large metal door; the Seal of Rassilon was emblazoned upon it in gold. The Doctor tapped on the door with the tip of his umbrella, and slowly it grounded open. On the other side stood Romana and other members of the High Council. She gave a small smile.

"Doctor. I am glad you could join us here."

****

"I have made it very clear- I do not wish to be a part of this War!" 

The Doctor was sitting at the end of the table of the High Council; the other members had joined since the beginning of the meeting. Romana was sitting on the other end, fingers tapping on the tabletop, circular Gallifreyan cut into the hardwood surface. There was a moment of silence after the Doctor's words-   
Instead of the President speaking next, it was the Magistrate, Romana's most trusted advisor.

"The position of Chief Strategist is a most important one, only gifted to the greatest minds in Time Lord societ-"

"There are many minds here only a small fraction lesser than mine who would be far better suited for the job. I cannot sit back and allow you to tear apart reality in a petty war!" The Doctor stood, quite intending that to be the end, but a voice stopped him dead.

"Wait."

He turned, looking at Romana, who had finally moved her eyes up to the Doctor; there was something there- pleading?

"None of us want this war. We are well aware of the consequences that we will have to fix afterwards. But the War is happening; there is nothing to be done now but fight. And the truth is, you are one of the Time Lord's greatest children. As much as many of our kind would not admit, it is a fact. So I beg of you Doctor. We need you."

There was a long moment as they looked in each other's eyes; though Romana had not regenerated, she was very much a different woman. She was hardened by her time in office. She looked weary. And for a moment the Doctor looked sorrowful, as if he wished he could help his people in this terrible War. 

His eyes full of sadness, he turned away, and walked out of the High Council's room.

Defeated, Romana sat down in her chair.

Alarms sounded in the room; Romana pressed a glyph on the table, and a hologram projector high above activated, revealing the General, a hardened warrior in his Eighth body. 

"Lady President, all Daleks have retreated to Skaro. We believe we can press an advantage." Romana thought for a moment, before looking up at the blue projection.

"Do it. The Corsair will take Rassilon's Revenge. Bring as many fighters as you can, General. End this war."

"Understood, ma'am."

 

****

 

The Daleks left devastation on the green skied planet of Palyun. 

Smoking craters, miles and miles across; entire massive stretches of land covered in toxic fumes. The citizens had gone underground; the Doctor could do nothing about it except hope the paradoxes and time tunneling would not destroy this planet entirely. 

And so, the Doctor was left wondering; why was the TARDIS sending him to the planet? The people were relatively peaceful, not technologically advanced, and more than likely entering a dark age. There was nothing he could do! He tried talking to the console, hoping this would be a time it worked; it didn't.

The TARDIS landed. 

"Oh, come on! There's nothing here!"

The damn thing actually sparked! The Doctor sneered, walking towards the doors.

"I'll go out, but I won't be happy about it!"

He stepped out into what appeared to be a dark cavern, apparently closed up by a cave-in a few meters away. However, the cave was lit by something.

"A light source, hmm? Let's take a look." The Doctor spoke to himself, walking around the TARDIS.

Before him, instead of the rough rock that surrounded him, was a thick wall of a crystalline material; there was an intense glow behind it, and it was semi transparent. 

There was a body suspended within.

 

****

 

"The Corsair, checking in! Rassilon's Revenge is a-go. Let's obliterate these mutants forever." Said the Corsair, a Time Lord in his Tenth body, which was that of a strong young man; far better than the frail old man he had been last time. He was on the bridge of the massive Gallifreyan bowship, Rassilon's Revenge. It was the only command bowship still in existence, and this was its first use in a great many years.

"Please, show a little more decorum, Corsair." The General's exasperated voice came over the comms. The Corsair just grinned, as the bowship slipped smoothly out of the vortex, one hundred thousand battle TARDISes all spinning relentlessly around it.

Instantly they came under fire, and the Corsair flipped a lever, a liquid-like barrier passing between the bowship and the frontline of Battle TARDISes.

"They weren't expecting the laser reduction fields! I told you, General!" The Corsair said triumphantly, as the other soldiers on the bridge prepared the ship for an energy blast. "Preparing the energy return. They'll get what's coming to 'em!"

"Kralinx and Poronsil, prepare a time jump. The Daleks are preparing their own." Said the General over the comms channel. The Corsair scoffed.

"This energy blast will disable their entire army. Why even worry about time travel at this point?"

"Don't get too cocky, soldier. Is the attack prepared?" The General said.

"Yessir. In three... two.... one...." the Corsair flipped the lever; a sheet of glowing blue energy spread over the shield, and shot off toward the Daleks, as if to wrap around the fleet of Daleks- 

A massive portal tore open just behind the Daleks, and a gargantuan Dalek saucer appeared, launching a single green bolt of energy; the blue field disappeared in a flash of light.

"Dammit! They anticipated this! Prepare a time attack!" The General shouted.

The Corsair watched as reality itself warped and shook, his eyes wide, jaw slack.

 

****

 

"What secrets do you have?" 

The Doctor poked at the crystal wall; there was a slight hum emanating from within. He spun around, removing his bowler hat and brown coat, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and straightening out his red velvet waistcoat. He rummaged around in his pockets, hands going impossibly deep- bigger on the inside pockets were sometimes a lot of trouble, but their usefulness outweighed that. After a few moments of fumbling, he produced a silver object; he pressed down a section of it, and it made a high pitched whine. This was the sonic screwdriver.

He pressed it down and scanned the crystal formation; after a few moments, the sonic sent back readings through its psychic circuit. 

"Curious." The Doctor said, slipping the sonic back into his pocket (it made a large clatter). He sat on the ground, legs crossed, and placed his hands against the crystal; he closed his eyes, and focused on the hum.

 

****

 

On Skaro, an order was sent up to the Daleks, an order that would alter the universe in horrid ways.

The Victory Protocol was initiated; on a nearby moon, scientist Daleks managed to crack the fabric of space and time; a massive machine, that seemed to shimmer impossibly, was placed against it. The machine emitted a massive cloud of black smoke, which kept its form even as it rose through the atmosphere into space; the smoke cloud grew and grew, arcs of lightning crashing around in it.

On Rassilon's Revenge, the Corsair noticed the smoke cloud; he walked closer to the glass, trying to get a better look.

"What the hel-"

The fighting stopped as reality itself moved like a wave of water; The Corsair shuddered as the wave passed over him, unsettling him. Then the sound wave hit, a massive BOOM that cracked the glass separating him from the vacuum of space. 

The impossibly massive cloud of smoke was shifting and sparking, solidifying, becoming... something.

There was a roar- or was it a shriek? A scream of pain? A baby crying? It was all of those and none of them, it was an impossible noise-

And the creature that formed from the smoke was equally as impossible. It shifted, phased, moved, constantly changing every half of a half of an attosecond, forming into every terrible nightmare squashed together-

"Incoming communications signal! It's from Skaro!" A soldier said at a computer bank. The Corsair, somehow, managed to speak through a dried mouth.

"Play it to every ship on our fleet."

"Time Lords, enemy of the Daleks. I speak to you from the eternal safety of my planet." Came a deep, grinding, rough voice; the creator of the Daleks. Davros. "This war ends today. This is my greatest creation: on this day, the Daleks have created the Nightmare Child! And it bows only to my will! The Time Lords will fall!"

 

****

 

The Doctor focused within the telepathic field; reaching out for the life that was suspended within.

A flash of images; a massive supernova; the Anti-Matter Universe, shifting, formless-

The Doctor was in a bright white room.

"I knew we would meet again, Doctor." 

The Doctor spun around, facing a young man in traditional red and gold Gallifreyan robes. His left eye was completely whited over; a burn scar covered the top left quarter of his face. The golden letters of Old High Gallifreyan spelled out his name plainly, and the Doctor felt his blood run cold.

"Impossible!" The Doctor gasped.

Omega smirked, a gesture that suddenly turned his face into something more than a handsome youngster; he looked evil.

"You of all people should know in this universe anything is possible, Doctor." Omega said. "I have been granted my body! There have been some... complications, of course. But once I devise an escape from this prison..... I shall restore my power fully." The Doctor didn't doubt that one bit; but an image flashed in his head. Romana, aged, her eyes sad with the weight of the Time War. He would make it up to her.

"That's all well and good, but there are far more important matters than your ploy for domination." Omega cocked his head, and the Doctor continued. "A war throughout all of time has erupted between the Daleks and the Time Lords. They are tearing apart the universe itself. Gallifrey is desperate." Omega raised his eyebrows, indicating he wished for the Doctor to continue. "Who would the High Council be to turn away the Creator of Time Travel?" 

Omega took a deep breath, considering for several moments. Finally, he looked back up at the Doctor.

"You raise an interesting proposal."

"You could gain control of the Council," the Doctor said, pressing his advantage. "After all of these years, you return, your body fully restored, in their greatest time of need. How could they refuse?" 

"The people who erased me from their history? The people who gave credit of my revolutions to Rassilon?" Omega said the name with such venom, the Doctor nearly flinched.

"Rassilon is long dead. This is your chance, Omega! To finally take the Presidency. Expose Rassilon as the fraud he is!" The Doctor stepped forward, something growing within him. It was a deja-vu like feeling- a memory that just couldn't quite bubble up to the surface. Omega seemed quizzical all the same.

"You sound like...." he trailed off, lost in thought, a memory. He looked back up at the Doctor, a slight sneer on his face. "How do you propose we convince the Council, then?" It took the Doctor only a moment to formulate an idea.

"There's a colony of Time Lords who protest the war. They've set up a Sanctuary planet in the far reaches of the universe. I believe you of all others could convince them to join the War effort. You bringing dissenters back to Gallifrey, ready to battle, would surely place you in their good graces! And then- you can lead Gallifrey to victory against the Daleks! And finally you can seize the throne you so rightfully deserve."

Omega considered for a moment, before a smile cracked across his face. He began laughing, a chilling noise- 

The Doctor was on solid ground, he was on the cave floor; the crystal wall before him was cracking, glowing brighter and brighter and brighter- the Doctor backed away, squinting his eyes, the phrase what have I done replaying in his head over and over and over and over-

The crystal smashed like glass, the light glowing impossibly bright; and a sillouette stepped forward. The light grew dimmer as the figure walked from his prison. Finally, the light dimmed to nothing, and Omega slid on his metal helmet.

"Finally." He said simply.

The Doctor steadied his shaking hands as he indicated Omega to step into the TARDIS.

 

****

 

"General!" The Corsair screamed, as a Dalek fleet from the future assaulted Rassilon's Revenge, the ship quaking. "Go to Gallifrey! Go!" The General didn't argue; he knew he was an important asset to the Time Lord army. He dematerialized.

"Prepare a Time Ram! I want these Daleks out the way!" Corsair yelled. He was in control of the armies now. The timeship's engines supercharged, drawing upon a suspended supernova; a red energy field shimmered over the ship's surface. "Steady.... steady!" 

"Now!"

The ship jumped forward, the gravity field holding its occupants in place; the red energy field supercondensed, crashing into thousands of Dalek ships, which exploded, some reassembling and those reassembled were attacked back into exploding again by Battle TARDISes from the future.

The impossible creature- Davros' Nightmare Child- swallowed thousands of battle TARDISes whole! The Corsair could hear the screams of agony from the comm, but knew there was nothing he could do.

"Prepare the Supernova Cannon! We need to destroy that thing!"

The Nightmare Child grew closer to Rassilon's Revenge.

"Lever's hot, sir." Said a soldier on the bridge; The Corsair grasped the lever and pushed it up.

On the front of the ship, miles down from the bridge, a massive panel slid open; the suspended supernova resumed its terrible explosion, the field expanding around it so the destructive energy was launched as a controlled beam. 

Corsair watched as the Nightmare Child opened its impossible maw, and swallowed the blast whole! The radio erupted with panicked words from the soldiers- the Corsair hurriedly activated controls on the console before him.

"Emergency jump to Gallifrey activated!" He yelled, as Rassilon's Revenge jumped into the chaotic time vortex. The ship shuddered and even the gravity field couldn't prevent the Time Lords from getting jostled about on the inside.

"Sir! The Nightmare Child is here!" A soldier yelled, showing the holographic tracker. The Corsair's eyes widened.

 

****

 

If one was watching from the edges of the endless vortex, they would've seen an impossible creature take a bite out of a massive ship- and they would see the remaining half of the ship phase from the vortex, the creature flying on, roaring as massive bolts of lightning struck it, the vortex trying to heal the massive wound that was the Nightmare Child.

 

****

 

"Ma'am! We have a ship materializing in the dry lands!" A soldier said over the comms channel, which was being listened to closely by the General and Romana. Romana turned to the large window that allowed her to look over the Capitol, and into the Drylands; she watched as The Rassilon's Revenge faded into sight, or half of it- only the front portion remained! 

The General and Romana moved quickly, exiting the room, the General ordering the guards to follow. They found a transmat room, the General indicating the coordinates they wished to go to, and with an instant they were teleported to the outskirts of the Capitol, the smoking wreckage of Rassilon's Revenge several hundred meters away.

Romana ran to the wreckage, her eyes scanning over it all; she could see dead and half dead soldiers, soldiers regenerating, some finally dying after reaching the regeneration limit. As she approached, a hatch crashed open- and the Corsair collapsed onto the sands of Gallifrey, bloody and broken.

"Corsair!" Romana called, rapidly approaching the body. He managed to drag himself to his hands and knees, spitting out a wad of blood.

"My lady... I failed... I'm so sorry.... the Daleks have won... the Daleks have..... I'm so sorry...." he said, as purple energy began drifting from his body, his regeneration approaching. "I'm so sorry..."

 

****

 

"How beautiful..." Omega said, stepping out of the TARDIS; the Doctor had landed on Sanctuary, the hidden planet, stowed away on the edge of the universe. The planet was almost entirely green, all massive trees and tall grass- but in a clearing, structures were built from the wood of the trees, much like a camp, makeshift but somehow adding to the beauty of the planet.

"Within that camp we can speak with the Leader. You can rally them, Omega." The Doctor said.

"Yes.... yes I can...." Omega spoke softly, apparently distracted. The Doctor waited a few moments, confused, before stepping closer.

"Shall we- oh!"

Omega had spun around with unexpected speed; a blade plunged into the Doctor's abdomen, deep and sharp. The Doctor's eyes widened, and he grabbed Omega's shoulder to steady himself, staring into the dark eyeholes of the bronze mask.

"Thank you, Doctor." Omega whispered, withdrawing the blade; the Doctor's legs gave out, and he fell down the hill, rolling over and over- before stopping on a flat cliff side, almost approaching the edge. As he stopped moving, he slowly brought his hand to his wound; and he could feel white hot tendrils of energy moving through his body as his regeneration grew nearer- it couldn't end this way! He had tried to help! He had tried to end this!

Omega approached him, the bloodied blade still in his hand. The ancient Time Lord watched as the Doctor moved only slightly, breathing heavily, losing blood rapidly-

Omega took one step forward, but a force pushed him back, as a wheezing noise emanated near- and the TARDIS appeared around the Doctor, and it made some noise, almost like a growl, and suddenly Omega was pushed backwards, far away-

 

****

 

"Thanks, old girl..." the Doctor said faintly, grabbing the console for support and pulling himself up; he cranked a lever, pushing the TARDIS away from Sanctuary, away from Omega.

The Doctor looked at his hands, which were now glowing with golden light; the Doctor grew mournful at this sight. 

"Getting closer to the end." He said softly, as seven turned to Eight, only five deaths away from complete oblivion.

****

And so, a fire raged throughout the universe. 

Planets were destroyed, brought back, and then destroyed again. The races on the planet were devastated, murdered and brought back to life over and over and over again, brought back to a life of suffering as the Daleks and the Time Lords raged throughout all of time. Those higher species who could perceive the War prayed for the Doctor to save them; but all hope was lost when the Doctor joined the fight, now a Warrior, forged in fire. 

Omega, the Could've Been King, led his army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres into the battles, salvaging technology from both the Daleks and the Time Lords to form a nearly unbeatable legion. Omega was fighting to control Gallifrey and the Daleks; many times, his forces tried to take Gallifrey, but were always stopped. And yet they always managed to escape the wrath of the Homeworld.

Romana disappeared completely, when Rassilon was resurrected; some speculated that she was thrown into the Vortex itself, a fate worse than death; some said she had been trapped within a mirror and hidden; and there were those that said she had merely been killed. With Rassilon's reinstatement as Lord President, it marked a change in Gallifrey's tactics. To Rassilon, the end justified the means. No planet was safe in his war with the Daleks, and there was no one that could save the lesser species that were obliterated. With the opening of the Omega Arsenal, the War took a further turn for the worse, s the universe convulsed.

But there was one weapon Rassilon refused to touch.

Created by the ancients of Gallifrey, the machine's capability was infinite. It had been known by many names. The Galaxy Eater. The Possibility Obliterator. Rassilon chose to refer to it as the Moment.

****

"What is the purpose of this meeting?" Romana said quickly, assuming her seat at the end of the table. The General stood by her side.

"We have been discussing recent events in this war." Garixil said; he was relatively young, in his third regeneration, but his body was aged, his voice scratchy, his hair thin and grey. "Sontar has fallen over 97 times. The Dominators have disappeared, though through no interference on our or the Dalek's part. Mondas has been restored from its previous destruction, but the atmosphere is weak, the planet devastated- but the Cybermen are still strong, as Telosian Cybermen have broken away from the natural evolution of their species, escaping their tombs and forming the Great Telosian CyberLegion. The Judoon Inquisitorious continue to blink in and out of existence. The Brell of Planet Drex have relocated thousands of times. The Zygons have been fighting back against Dalek control rather remarkably, but we know they will not last."

"So why call me here?" Romana said, scanning the faces of the High Council; they all seemed peculiarly nervous. "Well?"

"We wish to awaken Rassilon." Garixil said quickly. Romana felt as though the temperature in the room had changed; she found that no words could be said. The madman who is revered as a god. 

"For what purpose? Surely not to overthrow me-" 

"No, my lady." Said a younger Time Lord, Silaryn. "We merely wish to employ him as our Chief Strategist, after all, the Doctor refused so many years ago and we are only barely holding on in this time of great distress. We need a mind like Rassilon's."

"Rassilon wished to rest." Romana said, noting the general discomfort of the High Council. "We shall keep it that way. That is my final opinion on the matter." 

She stood quickly, leaving the chamber; the General followed, the heavy wooden doors closing behind them.

"They will overthrow me." She said to him, lowering her voice.

"It would appear so," he confirmed, looking around cautiously as they spoke.

"I have only one request for you." Romana said, stopping in the middle of the cavernous hallway and facing the General. "Use my personal time tunnel, and go into Gallifrey's past; find the child I'm looking for, and implant a command in his subconscious."

"What command?" The General asked; he appeared shocked at this sudden turn in Romana, who had never shown herself to be capable of these sorts of manipulations.

"'When Rassilon returns to power, the Doctor is your only ally.'" Romana said carefully after a moment of thought. The General nodded, taking another looking around the hallway.

"But, ma'am; who is this child?"

****

Travesty was a barren planet, one that reminded Omega much of the Southern Drylands of Gallifrey. Just looking out over the sands of Travesty brought back many memories; celebrations with the blood of the Pythia on their hands; Rassilon laying on the ground, cradling his injured arm, but a satisfied smile on his face as he stared up at the starry night sky- and... what was his name? Why did it always escape Omega? The other one. The quiet one. He merely stood, staring at the distant outline of the mountains, Solace and Solitude; the next day, they were to tear down Pythia's kingdom stone by stone, to build something grander, more majestic. Three young Gallifreyans who had done the impossible, who had dreamed the impossible and did it.

Omega could almost taste the bitterness he felt. All those triumphs, and here he was, attempting to collapse Gallifrey for his own gain. 

How far he had fallen.

Omega's army (who had been named the Meanwhiles and Neverweres- people who hadn't mattered, and yet here they were) had set up a camp on the empty planet. Instead of participating in the planning sessions in the Leader's TARDIS, Omega sat on the ground, looking up at the purple and blue sky; the moon, Gibragatt, to the East, and Vek, with its seven golden rings, taking up much of the sky in its nineteenth rotation. Omega sighed, an oddly light sound; looking up at the stars and reminiscing, he could almost dream he was that young Gallifreyan preparing to tear down a kingdom.

****

It was 1999; New Years Eve, Earth. On a cliff at the edge of a forest stood a slender man in a coal black suit; his skin was pale, his salt and pepper hair slicked back. He looked down upon the large city, watching fireworks erupt. A small frown was set on his pale features, giving him an ghoulish look.

He didn't turn when a wheezing noise started behind him. A golden capsule, emblazoned with the Seal of Rassilon, faded into view behind him, but still he didn't turn. The door opened, and Romana stepped out.

"Romana." He said in his deep voice. "I figured you would come at some point."

"I wasn't trying to surprise you." She said simply, tone conversational. "Do they still call you the Master?" 

He bowed his head slightly, and shook it. A burst of red and gold sparks shot high above the city, briefly illuminating the two on the cliff side.

"Are you here to recruit me, Romana? I have no place in your war."

"No, I'm not here for the War. I'm here because the Doctor is in danger. The High Council is planning to overthrow me, and resurrect Rassilon himself. We both are among the few that know of the possible ramifications of that."

The Master visibly tensed; there were a few moments of silence, before he turned to Romana, face unreadable.

"Where is the Doctor?"

****

Gallifrey was burning.

A billion ships waged war in the space above the planet; space itself shook and convulsed as time distortions began to crack reality. On the surface, a much more conventional war was waged; burning hot lasers singed through Gallifreyan soldiers and citizens, time displacement grenades sending Daleks and Meanwhiles and Neverweres into the vortex. In the middle of the battle, two men carved through Omega’s army and the Daleks with electroblades in one hand, blasting soldiers away with Gallifreyan tactical blasters. The man in front was tall, handsome and young; though he was grimy, even splattered with blood new and old in some places, and his face was set in a thunderous fury, there was kindness in his eyes. Once, he was the Doctor; now he was merely the Warrior. His companion, a tall, handsome man with slicked back hair, was the Master, exuding a cold fury. 

“The Cruciform will fall soon!” The Master shouted as he parried a shot with his electro blade and sent a bolt through a soldier’s abdomen. The Master was referring to a large cross-shaped structure in the sky, blue energy fluctuating off of it and into the atmosphere. It was the only thing keeping the full Dalek and Could’ve Been King armies from fully invading the Homeworld.

“We have to get through the the TARDIS!” The Warrior shouted.

“What is your plan, dammit?!” The Master demanded. 

“We have to go!” The Warrior repeated, eyes scanning for a way out. He sights a gap in the melee, and indicates it to the Master. They continue their murderous progress. 

High above Gallifrey, a Dalek saucer charges its own supernova cannon. The cross shaped structure was only barely holding the planetary shield up. The blast of superheated energy struck it directly in the center. The shield deactivated, the massive structure cracking in half and beginning to fall into the atmosphere, into the battlefield that was raging in the Drylands of Gallifrey. 

The Warrior and Master looked up, as did the majority of the fighters; there were screams, not of pain, but terror, as the awesome structure careened downwards. The Warrior and the Master resumed their pace, now able to run as the fighters were distracted; they just made it to the edge of the armies when the Cruciform crashed.

A shockwave moved through the ground, kicking up dust; then the structure exploded, pushing thousands of fighters backwards. The Warrior could feel the heat of the explosion on his back. He groaned when his body crashed into the hard desert ground. When the Warrior opened his eyes, there was an eerie silence. The entire landscape was obscured, covered by a cloud of dust and smoke; and the he heard a choked groan behind him. He stood up as quick as his aching body would allow him, walking blindly through the dust until he found the source of the sound. The Master was laid on the ground, shrapnel sticking out of his abdomen, blood spreading rapidly across his body. 

“No!” The Warrior yelled, rushing to the Master. He cradled his friend’s head, and the Master’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Doctor...” He whispered in a quiet voice, a trickle of blood leaking from his mouth. He was shaking horribly.

“It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay, you can regenerate!” The Warrior said with desperation.

“You idiot.” The Master said with an effort, a small smile quirking on his mouth. “This is my last regeneration. It’s over.” The Warrior took only a few moments to process it, before lifting his hand and pressing it to the Master’s chest; the Master’s hand wrapped around the Doctor’s wrist. “No. I don’t want your energy. Just...” he coughed, more blood leaking from his mouth. “Listen. I’m sorry. For the past. For your future. I’m sorry Doctor. I’m so sorry.” 

Slowly, golden energy began crawling across the Master’s skin; it brightened, more and more, until particles of golden energy began floating up into the air; slowly, the clothes sink, until there isn’t a body in the Warrior’s hands, just the clothing of his deceased friend.


End file.
